Control
by deadcurrents
Summary: A dream, within a dream, within a dream.


**Author's Note(s)**: I don't own, but so wish I did, any of the character's mentioned in this story.  
I type faster than I think, so I'm sorry if there are any misspellings, grammar mistakes, or anything of the sort.  
I wrote this after waking up from a dream at like 3 in the morning so I'm sure it's a tad jumbled. I also picked this one to publish instead of another I had written.  
I hope anyone that reads this story, likes it, seeing as this is my first Supernatural fic.

**Warnings**: Rated T for (tiny) Sammifer and slight Daddy issues.

Sam ran his long, calloused fingers through Lucifer's soft, blonde hair. He stepped closer to where Lucifer was sitting on the bed, situating himself to where one of his legs were between the older's and the other standing just outside his left leg.

Sam reached up with his other hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the soft, hot skin behind Lucifer's ear. He leaned down, his back bending just slightly as he stood over the other man, acting as if he were going to kiss the Devil, but instead placing a soft peck where the corner of lips meet skin. Lucifer's eyes fluttered shut, but only to open again as Sam whispering quietly against his ear, his hand still splaying softly through the thick hair on Luce's scalp. The Devil's eyes opened a tad wider at what Sam whispered, his lips parting and breath hitching in his throat.

Memories came flooding back of the time when Luce tortured Sam, a cold sadness washing over him. He remembered mostly though, of the time in the warehouse where he acted as Sam's older brother, knowing the bond between them would easily hide the fact that Dean, wasn't Dean at all. He remembers watching through Dean's eyes as Sam breaks down, losing his cool because Real Dean just walked through the door. And he remembers how Sam points the gun at his older brother, just shy of pulling the trigger while Satan's words try to sneak in through Sam's ear and coil around his brain. Urging. Urging. And _urging_ him to pull the trigger, because none of this is real. Because he's still in hell, locked up. With no one but Lucifer to coax him to insanity. No one to talk to, no one to _scream_ for help to while the flames eat at the beautiful man's young face.

The Real Dean tries to reason, taking the younger's hand tight in his own, looking deep into unsure, but loving eyes. Lucifer already felt himself slipping away as Dean took over, having the power, the _control_ over Satan's one-and-only to return him to reality. The power and control he so _desperately_ yearned for. The power his father held over him and his brothers so many years ago.

The comfortable embrace of control slipping away as the old angel cried out, reaching for his father as he fell from Heaven and _crashed_ into Hell.

He remembers that day perfectly, because that's the day Sam really said "no" to him. He remembers the last breath of hope and faith stutter out before they finally die as Sam walks out of that warehouse in tact with his savior, his God, his _brother_. The hope and faith were soon replaced with disgust, hate, and greed, but most of all, _longing _and jealousy. How is it that one human can resist him? One human.. One amongst the _billions_.. Resist..?... Lucifer?

He's still trying to think up an answer just as he's now questioning how, rather _why_ Sam is here. Suddenly snapping back to reality, he feels the same thumb tracing down his neck to find his pulse point against the hollow underneath of his jaw. A warm, burning flush spreads. Starting in his cheeks, he feels his whole body starting to heat.. almost overheat, as he hears Sam's words echo in his ears. "It had to be you. It always had to be you, Lucifer," his own words falling from the beautiful man's thin lips.

It's then that Lucifer snaps into reality once again, realizing that he's locked up in his cage, dreaming of what could have been if Sam had said yes. In Hell, alone, _again_. And the answer to the question that has pounded every sane thought and instinct out of his body finally occurs to him. Sam can resist him so easily because he never really wanted control of the man. If he really wanted it, he would have found a way, he could have reduced Sam to _nothing_. He'd meant to help Sam. Every time Sam hurt, he hurt. He never wanted to intentionally hurt Sam, but it was always him.

It was _always_ Sam.

He felt it when the man was born. He knew that his true vessel was finally on earth, because for one second, just one second, his empty shell of a body, of a _soul_, felt whole again. It felt whole like when he was with his Father. He waited, ecstatic to get out of the cage that had held him for so long, so many centuries. He was ready to finally be with someone other than himself, ready to not be alone. He waited until the boy grew into a man strong enough to hold every fiber of Lucifer in him forever. And when Lucifer finally came across said man, it wasn't the ache to be in control that made his vision blurry. It was to _love _and be _loved _in return. He loved the tall, well-built man from the moment he laid his stolen eyes on him. And love made him _weak _in the knees, just as it had when he was still in Heaven with his father and brothers. But he thought maybe, just maybe, that if could be different. Maybe it didn't have to end so badly. Maybe Sam could love him too, because that's all Lucifer has wanted since he was cast out. But that didn't happen. Surely Sam could give him that, right? Only Sam though, it had to be him.

It _had _to be Sam.

Thanks for reading if you got this far! R&R.


End file.
